ASSTR Story codes: MF, voy, viol, NC, rape, ScFi, slavery, caution, aliens
A short story involving the background of a secondary character from a larger porn I’m writing and will be posting soon. I got stuck writing my main story, and Rakha’s decision to sell herself into slavery nagged at me, so I wrote the details and expanded it into short story.
Disclaimer: This is not intended in any way to claim that slavery, in the real world, is tolerable or not so bad. It isn’t intended to belittle the conditions of real slavery by comparing it favorably with grinding poverty. It’s just a bit of wank material involving a deeply fucked up character.
Legal notice: if you are under the legal age for viewing pornography in your jurisdiction you should stop reading now.
Star Wars MegaFan notice: This isn’t following the stuff from Legends, or even Canon with any real obsessive effort. I’ve deviated from canon when it seemed appropriate or hot, and I only really know the Legends stuff by reading Wookkeepedia because I never got into the old EU.
I do try to make things work with cannon, I won’t be describing Duros as having three heads or anything like that, but if you’re looking for 100% accurate Star Wars porn, these aren’t the porns you’re looking for.
Offers of money, sex, proofreading, or editing are gladly accepted.
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** CONTENT NOTICE **
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This story involves graphic descriptions of rape, domestic violence, slavery, and implied abuse of children. If that isn’t something you want to see, stop reading now
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**The Last Decision**
Rakha woke and kicked off the thick blankets she’d covered herself with the night before, already the temperature was rising. It would be blisteringly hot soon she knew. Light, and sand, leaked in around the curtains and under the door. The first thing she looked at, this morning and every morning, was her stockpile of water. The second thing was the only note of color, the only pretty thing, in an otherwise dingy and cluttered hovel: a stretchy neon orange dress that hung on one wall.
The room was as small as it was ugly, barely large enough for her pallet and the small locker for her food and other necessities. Several empty water bottles were on top of the locker, along with one that was half full. Rakha pulled a filtersac from under some clutter in a corner and squatted to pee into it. A moment later the bottom of the sac filled with purified water, and the top turned a darker gray. She’d need another soon, and the price kept rising. With a slight grimace she drank the purified crystal clear and body warm water from the nozzle at the bottom of the sac, though it tasted fine she could never forget its origin.
After pulling on her underwear, the last even slightly clean pair, Rakha frowned at her coverall but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of taking it outside and trying to beat the dust out.
In the locker were a few packets of blue powder, she tore the top off one and dumped its contents into a durasteel cup. Mixed with a precious 100 milliliters from her last bottle of water it became a thick, cool, calorie dense drink, but after she was finished she still felt hungry. She put the cup aside, she’d have to scrub it later with sand but couldn’t muster the will to do it right then. With a shrug she chased her breakfast with the last of the water from the bottle.
A burn on the back of her hand from where she’d brushed a hot motor the day before bothered her a bit as she pulled on her coverall, but it was mild. Only a minor darkening to her pebbled turquoise skin, no blistering. She stood for a moment, unmoving and seemingly unaware of her surroundings. Then, with a deep sigh, she put on her toolbelt and slid back the bolt on her door.
Outside the suns were rising, and already she was too hot. Rodians were supposed to have an easier time in high temperatures than Humans, but Rakha thought that was just a myth. She certainly hated the oppressive heat of Tatooine at least as much as her Human acquaintances and employers seemed to. Turning left, she trudged towards her first appointment, a broken vaporator at a nearby cantina. Around her the slums of Mos Espa came to life, babies crying, couples arguing, and Thom’s bruisers strutting across the street a dozen meters ahead of her.
Though she had paid them off yesterday, the sight of Thom’s people gave Rakha a thrill of terror. Every day she paid them more than she could afford just to to buy another day of them not murdering her, but if they were bored it wouldn’t matter. She still had a bruise on her ribs from the beating Biph had given her a week ago when she’d paid her “tax” and he decided she’d been ungrateful. Fortunately this group went on their way, not even seeming to notice her.
“I decide to pay them to keep them from deciding to kill me,” Rakha thought as she walked. “Just like I decided not to buy water yesterday so I could have enough to pay them off. So many decisions I get to make!” The sarcasm cheered her a bit and she hurried to her first job.
The first job was actually pleasant, the problems were located inside, in the air conditioning. Even better the manger, Pham, had given her free water while she worked. Feeling pleasantly hydrated Rakha ventured into the sandy streets to her second job of the day. Her good mood did not last.
Unless you knew what to look for, it was easy to get lost in Mos Espa, even outside the slums. The buildings were all made of the same thick dun colored adobe and street signs were mostly non-existent. Rakha had lived there her whole life and rarely got lost, but somehow this time she had gotten turned the wrong way and wound up late to her second job of the day.
At a middle class home in the northern part of town Rakha showed up twenty minutes later than her estimate and was greeted by a dour looking Human woman, apparently her client though the woman hadn’t bothered to introduce herself, and coldly shown the broken vaporator.
The Human woman did not leave once she’d shown Rakha the vaporator, and Rakha always disliked working with an audience. “To keep this job I’ll decide to let her stand there, glowering at me the whole time. How can I keep up with all these decisions?” She rolled her eyes, a gesture that among Rodians included briefly flexing her ear stalks, while she pried off an access panel and stared at the machinery.
The problem, unfortunately, was out at the moisture gathering stalks of the vaporator. “Now I’ll decide to climb up ten meters onto a shaky platform and do hard work in the heat and wind!” Rakha thought.
After reaching the platform she snapped her safety line on and looked down at the city sprawling around her. Ten meters above roof level wasn’t especially high, but the buildings in Mos Espa were generally low to the ground. Rakha could see for a few kilometers in all directions. Her eye alighted on a slaver in a small market just two blocks away, his naked property was being herded onto a platform, and she stopped a while to watch. Each slave stepped forward at the slaver’s command, too far away for Rakha to hear, turned, and allowed themselves to be examined by potential buyers who prodded their muscles, used medical scanners to search for defects, and then engaged in a brief haggling session before one would hand over a bag of coins and take their new property away. The slaver would then call the next forward and the process would continue.
Most of the slaves she saw were clearly bound for heavy manual labor, but as the sale drew to its close the last few seemed meant for other jobs. The very last slave, a beautiful pale skinned Human woman with a braid of long blond hair, was obviously a sex slave, and Rakha felt her nipples harden and her pussy moisten as she watched the other woman parade before her potential buyers. A Rodian man prodded her breasts and pulled on her nipples, a Twi’lek woman said a few words and the Human slave bent over and spread her buttocks while the other woman pushed her fingers into the slave’s asshole and cunt. Finally a red skinned Jablogian man examined her mouth carefully, pushing his fingers into the back of her throat while she gagged and tried to avoid vomiting.
For a moment Rakha imagined herself in the place of the other woman. She could almost feel the sun beating all over her naked body as strangers, people who would buy her and treat her as property, prodded her and inspected her. The image electrified her clit and made juice from her pussy, always copious in Rodian women, start soaking into her panties.
The haggling was over quickly, and the Jablogian took possession of the young Human woman who followed her new owner out of the square with downcast eyes. Rakha’s hand found its way to her crotch without any conscious thought and she stroked herself through the thick material of her coverall for a moment imagining the beautiful woman being fucked by her grotesquely fat and ugly new owner. Soon she was imagining herself in the Human’s place, reduced to nothing but a fuck toy for anyone who bought her, cocks plunging into her pussy and anus while she pretended to enjoy it…
“WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG!” Her employer’s voice cut through Rakha’s fantasy, and the lust that had briefly made her life seem more worthwhile spilled out of her like water from a knocked over bottle. Rakha heaved a deep sigh.
“I’ll decide to be civil to the cunt down there so I don’t lose my job.” She thought. “It won’t be much longer ma’am,” she said aloud.
“It better not be, I need that fixed before lunch!”
Rakha, now feeling the heat from the suns, turned listlessly back to her work.
“I ‘decide’ to do shit work for crap pay in lousy conditions because the alternative is a messy death. She ‘decided’ to let those people at the auction poke her and she’ll ‘decide’ to let her new owner fuck her because the alternative is a messy death. Which of us is free? Which of us can make decisions that matter?”
Three jobs later, Rakha trudged homeward. She took less than direct route so she could stop at the corner where Biph held court. He and three well muscled guards, two Twi’lek women and a Human man, all carrying blasters on their hips, were sitting on a couple of benches in front of a tea shop. A small queue of slum dwellers had formed, each handing over a few coins then scuttling off into the lengthening shadows. “Yet more decisions,” she thought. “Will I decide to pay Biph or will I decide to die? Decisions, decisions, always decisions. I’m so glad I’m free and able to make all these decisions for myself!” Rakha kept the thoughts off her face.
“Rakha!” Biph said, smiling with what seemed to be genuine friendly pleasure. The throbbing in her ribs reminded her that he meant none of it, but something inside her still responded with a desire to please him. “And how is my favorite vaporator repair girl doing today? That job you did for Thom is still holding up, he’s pleased with you and so am I!”
“I’m fine, sir.” Rakha kept her eyes downcast. “I have my tax.”
“Good! Good!” Biph took the coins, and waited until Rakha had begun to turn away. “Wait.”
Rakha’s guts suddenly turned to ice, the false friendship had left his voice and Biph sounded suddenly cold and distant. She froze, trembling. Knowing that running would do no good forced herself to turn. “Yes sir?”
Suddenly Biph was smiling again. He tossed her a chilly can from the cooler box by his feet. “Have a beer, you deserve it!” The soldiers laughed, and Rakha felt her knees go weak. She stammered thanks and fled.
Once away from Biph, Rakha was breathing normally again and felt a flush of humiliation. She opened the beer and drank it as she walked. At the place next to her hovel she heard shouting and the crash of something being thrown. Her neighbors were a Human couple with no children. Laura, the woman, was screaming something about the man sleeping around. Rakha couldn’t quite make out James’ response but it was loud.
As she drew level with the house the pitch of the argument changed, and she heard a loud ringing smack. Glancing at the window, she saw Laura was on the floor, her man standing over her with his fist raised. James kicked her in the side, and she howled, then he picked her up and slapped her open handed back and forth over and over while she screamed and clawed at him. Rakha was tempted to stop and watch, but she decided she shouldn’t risk it. She saw James punch Laura in the stomach, then as she doubled over he punched her in the face, then the window was past her and she could see nothing but heard the ongoing meaty sounds of the other woman’s beating going on and on while she screamed and cried.
While she unlocked her door, Rakha heard the sounds of the beating stop, then an instant later a different kind of scream and she knew James must be raping Laura. She shut the door, and the sounds were muffled. She took the time to bar the door, then hurried to the wall and pressed one ear stalk against it while she fumbled for the zipper at the front of her coverall and yanked it down.
Rakha’s fingers slid under her panties and began stroking the engorged and slick lips of her twat. With her ear against the wall she could hear everything going on next door as if she were in the same room. Laura was moaning, sobbing, and the heavy rhythmic thumping told her that James was pumping into her at high speed.
“STOP YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Laura screamed, and from his growl Rakha guessed that she’d tried to push James away.
Six sharp slaps resounded, Rakha could practically feel them on her own face, backhand, forehand, backhand, forehand, backhand, forehand. Then Laura sobbed again in despair and the sound of her rape went on with no more interruptions.
As Rakha listened, and masturbated, the sound of Laura’s beating and rape melded with her own memories. Her man had been a strong and handsome Rodian, his crest an almost emerald green. Rumi had beaten her often, and far more systemically and severely than James beat Laura. While her right hand manipulated her clit, Rakha prodded her side with her left, letting the pain there and the sound of Laura’s misery pull her deeper into her memories.
Everyone Rakha had ever loved had beaten and raped her, her mother, her boyfriends, and Rumi were all the same in that aspect. She gasped, her orgasm nearing, listening while on the other side of the wall Laura sobbed and her man grunted as he raped her. In her mind Rakha replayed the last beating Rumi had given her before he and their son had died. Unlike the beatings she’d gotten from her mother which were always almost coldly methodical as she pulled as much pain from Rakha as she could, Rumi often started a beating wildly. The punching, slapping, kicking, and choking was almost random in his initial rages, then he calmed and used more methodical, and more agonizing, methods as her punishment progressed.
In that final beating she had thought he might kill her in his initial rage. It started with his fists punching her body and face, his open hands slapping her face, her tiny breasts, and any other part of her he could get, the deeper pain of kicks to her ribs and guts. Then, like always, he’d calmed down after his initial passionate rage. He’d left her curled on the floor, naked and sobbing, while he fetched his punishment tools. Paddles, whips, floggers, canes, clamps and any other thing he could find that would make her hurt. When returned he tortured her systemically until every centimeter of her body was a single scream of agony. Rakha had encouraged him, shouting obscenities and mocking his manhood. The pain of a beating wasn’t something she wanted exactly, but it was something she needed at a deep and primal level. Something about the pain, the endurance of long agony, rushed straight to her cunt and made her ache for more.
Finally, when her entire body was covered with welts and bruises and her voice horse from screaming, Rumi had forced her legs apart and rammed his cock into hr sopping and dripping pussy while she screamed and writhed and he slapped her face and breasts as he pumped in and out. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen their son, just turned five years old, as naked as she was, his hand moving up and down his tiny erect penis while he watched his father rape her. She’d intended to beat him for that later, as her mother had beaten her, and then use him for her pleasure, as her mother had used her. But after he’d cum and left her sobbing on the floor Rumi had taken their son out, and then both had died in a speeder crash.
Rakha shuddered and stiffened as her orgasm blasted all conscious thought out of her mind. Somehow, as she came, Laura’s sobbing seemed louder.
Shortly after she came, Rakha heard James groan in his own orgasm, and a few moments later heard him stomping out of the house. Through the wall Laura’s sobs continued, but now they annoyed Rakha instead of inspiring her. She wished she dared go next door and beat Laura herself, rape her again, slap her already bruised face, use a strap her dry Human pussy, and force her to lick up the flood of juices flowing from her cunt, but she knew that James might kill her if she did.
On the wall a tiny neon orange dress seemed to glisten, and Rakha was tempted. It was her baiting dress, the only nice thing she owned anymore, and the quickest way she could find someone to rape her. She knew that much of her annoyance with Laura’s continued weeping was envy. It had been months since she’d last been raped, and longer since she’d gotten a proper beating. In her mood now she was almost tempted to find Biph and slap him, just to see what he’d do, to see how much he’d hurt her, even if it meant he might kill her in his rage.
But she had six jobs tomorrow, and she was already tired. “So I decide to put off pleasure for my job. Another glorious decision…”
A week passed, then another, and another. Laura had been beaten and raped once more in that time, but otherwise the days slid by in monotony. Rakha’s dress stayed on the wall, she was weary, always tired, always thirsty, and couldn’t find the energy to put it on and go strolling near a rough bar.
On the way to yet another broken vaporator, Rakha passed the offices of a slaver and found herself stopped and staring.
“I could decide to pass by,” she thought. “I could keep deciding to work for nothing, keep deciding to pay Thom’s thugs, keep deciding to sleep instead of go out.”
She stood frozen in indecision for several long minutes as oblivious to the people brushing past as she was to the heat beating down from the twin suns.
Finally, almost dreamily, Rakha realized she was making her last decision.
A bell rang as she pushed open the door and the slave trader looked up. “Looking to sell your indentures for a few years to pay off a debt?” He asked. From her dusty clothes it was obvious she wasn’t there to buy.
Rakha shook her head, dropped her tool belt, and stepped out of her coverall. “I’m free and I owe no debt,” she said as she took off her panties, “sell me offworld as a fucktoy and the profit is all yours.” She almost laughed as she saw the stunned look on the slaver’s face. For the first time since Rumi and their son died she felt right. She had made her last decision, and it seemed to her that it had been a good one.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/62w0st/the_last_decision_a_star_wars_pornfic_sf_slavery
Feedback and criticism (constructive or otherwise) is welcome.